Hilarity and deep thoughts, all at your fingertips. Eventually.

Just to clarify – the title is not me asking for help. Don’t call the cops. I promise if I ever need immediate help that I will do a lot of things, but a vague blog post will probably not be one of them.

Probably.

ANYWAY.

I have been thinking a lot about help lately. I don’t like getting help. Well, that isn’t true. I love getting help. I just hate accepting help. The actual act of agreeing to be helped is hard for me. Over the last few years it has been even harder.

I used to think it was a pride thing. I thought maybe I was too arrogant, too confident to accept help. That seems to be the case for a lot of people so it made sense.

But I don’t really think that’s the issue for me. In fact, I think it’s quite the opposite. I don’t have a lot of confidence. I used to, but the last few years have kind of sucked it out of me. I am gradually getting it back, but it’s taking its sweet time.

Accepting help makes me feel guilty. After Josh was born so early and so sick, we needed a lot of help. We had to accept a lot of help. It was very hard. Even now, two years later, we need help to recover from that crazy time in our lives. And that kills me. I am tired of needing help. I am so grateful that we have so many friends and family willing to give it to us. But I am over needing it all the time.

And, frankly, I feel like I have so little pride left, so little to be confident in after needing help so much, that anytime someone offers to help, I instantly cringe. Not because I don’t want help, or need it, but because I just don’t know how much more help I can take. I feel ashamed that I have to decline invitations to dinner because we don’t have $10 to spare. I feel guilty that I haven’t been working for two years, even though I needed to stay home with Josh. I feel bad that as much as I want to help someone, I am really not in a position to do much for anyone right now. Every time we conquer a hurdle, another one pops up. Josh needs special braces, or special food, or both kids get sick sixteen times in one week and can only be cured by seven million dollar medicine.

And I know these are not the world’s biggest problems. I know that what I am writing here is true for so many people in the world right now. I know that we are very blessed. I know that we are fortunate that we are surrounded by people who care about us so much and want to do whatever they can. No one has ever made me feel like I am inconveniencing them or burdening them by asking for help.

I just can’t take the feeling of being at rock bottom so often. That’s a dramatic response and probably not even an appropriate one. But lately I just feel like my family is only sustained by the help of others, and that we can’t even help ourselves. It’s not a pleasant feeling. And it’s one I want to get rid of. I don’t know how to get rid of it. Probably the best cure is an attitude adjustment for my feelings about the situation. But sometimes I worry that if I keep needing and accepting help, I will have nothing left of my own. No pride, no confidence, no way to get myself back into a world where trips to the grocery store don’t have to be planned down to the last dollar.

I’m not sure how to end this. Please know that I am not writing this to ask for money, or gifts, or anything. Please know that. New jobs are on the horizon for Daniel and me (or, in my case, at Horizon) and things will turn around, and everything will be okay. We are not about to be evicted by our landlords (hi, Mom and Dad) and we have not been reduced to stripping for money. We strip for fun. These thoughts have just been on my mind for a while, and I wanted to share them, and since it’s my blog, I get to do what I want. I can even put a picture of a rainbow zebra on here. Watch:

I want one

So…that’s that. How should I end this? How about with a vote: Would you rather have a rainbow zebra, a rainbow monkey, or an actual rainbow that tells you jokes but borrows your clothes without asking?